6. Chapter Six

Chapter Six

F ury

After making a run in the surrounding area to do recon and see if any of our electronics could get a signal, I enter the cabin and shut the door against the swirling snow. Despite my reservations about this whole situation, I can't help but feel a sense of satisfaction at having found Natalie alive.

"No signal in any direction. While I was out there, I got a good look at the sky. I don't think the storm is going to let up anytime soon."

After removing my snow-covered coat and hanging it on a peg near the door, I bend at the waist and shake to remove the snow from my hair and beard. Granted, there were other ways to dislodge it, but some resentful part deep inside me wanted to remind her of my animalistic origins.

She's lying propped up in bed, cradling her mug of tea, which is probably room temp by now. Her green eyes track my movements warily as I approach.

"How are you feeling?" I ask gruffly. Goddess, I'm not cut out for this caretaker role.

"Like I fell off a cliff," she mutters wryly. Then her expression softens a fraction. "But I'm alive, thanks to you. "

Uncomfortable, I shrug off her gratitude. "I need to check your head and that ankle. Make sure nothing's broken."

She nods and sets her mug on the bedside table. Perching gingerly on the edge of the bed, I try to ignore how small and vulnerable she looks swaddled in those quilts. I'm used to capable, hardy wolven. Not soft, breakable humans.

Carefully, I examine the gash on her forehead, cleaning it with what's left of the warm water. She winces but doesn't flinch away from my touch.

As I gently dot the cut with antiseptic from her first aid kit, I run through concussion symptoms, asking about nausea, blurry vision, and light or sound sensitivity. She denies them all.

"I don't know you well, Natalie—"

"Call me Tally."

"Yeah. But why do I get the feeling you wouldn't come clean if you were experiencing any of those symptoms?"

She doesn't give an immediate answer, but I choose to outwait her, letting the expanding silence increase her anxiety until she admits, "I felt a little nauseous earlier, but not now. And none of those other symptoms."

After I ask a few math calculations, she laughs. "I'm not sure that will prove much. I'm a wildlife biologist, not a mathematician."

"You did fine on my little cognitive test." My tone is grudging, which is harsh, even for an asshole like me. "Promise you'll tell me if you have any of those symptoms. Otherwise, no signs of concussion. But you'll have a nice scar."

"That's not too bad, right? Better than dying, and I'll have a great story to tell," she jokes weakly. I just cock a brow at her, my ears flattening slightly. Humans are strange.

"Where do you keep your painkillers?"

"Uh, on the grocery list? I just ran out."

"Not even Tylenol? Aspirin?"

"Nope."

I control my urge to scold her by reminding myself she's out in the wilderness and it's not her fault she ran out of something.

Moving to the foot of the bed, I lift the quilt to reveal her injured ankle. It's swollen and mottled with bruising. She inhales sharply as I gently probe the joint. "Doesn't appear to be broken, probably a bad sprain."

Grabbing a flat sheet from a shelf in the closet, I tear it into strips and wrap her ankle. "It needs to be immobilized."

Natalie props herself against the pillows, watching me with wary yet curious green eyes that see too much. Like I'm a wild animal who wandered into her scientific crosshairs.

When I'm done bandaging her, I clear my throat. "How's that feel?"

Gingerly, she tries to rotate her ankle, then hisses in pain. "I won't be hiking out of here anytime soon, that's for sure."

"And I don't think a rescue crew is likely to reach us tonight."

Her eyes widen with alarm. "We're stuck here? But…"

"I can carry you out tomorrow once the storm breaks," I cut her off. "But tonight, we shelter in place."

She looks terrified, her gaze darting around the room as though she's looking for another bedroom, a second bed. Then she nods grudgingly. "You're right. I can barely hobble to the bathroom, let alone trek down a mountain."

"Glad you see reason."

An awkward silence descends as the reality of our situation sinks in. Me and her, two strangers, two different species, trapped together overnight in this little cabin. My instincts are screaming at me to bolt, to get far away from this pretty human, and hunker down alone somewhere .

But I can't. I'm bound by duty and an odd tugging in my chest that compels me to see her to safety. Stupid wolven loyalty.

"Um, can you pull out a flannel nightgown from the second drawer in the dresser?"

She's asking for help covering her pretty pink underwear, so I'm not sure why my cock jumps to attention. After handing them to her, thankful that she must keep her undergarments in a different drawer, I turn my back as she pulls them on.

I can picture what's going on with every rustle of the sheets, every sharp, muffled inhale as I imagine her ankle bursts with pain. Finally, she settles back against the headboard but I imagine it's going to be a long night.

As I rummage through her modest food stores for dinner, I'm keenly aware of her gaze on my back, tracking my every move like I'm some fascinating new creature she's observing in the wild. It raises my hackles.

The domestic scene feels surreal as I ladle out two bowls of steaming chicken noodle. Me, an aging wolven warrior, playing nursemaid to a human. If the guys back at HQ could see me now, I'd never live it down.

Yet as I hand Natalie a large mug filled with soup and settle on the loveseat along the wall, a strange contentment steals through me. I scold myself, ashamed this bothers me so little. To counteract my complacency, I command myself not to forget what humans are capable of.

"So," Natalie ventures after a bit. "How long have you been with the Wolven Warriors?"

I tense, spoon halfway to my mouth. She's fishing, studying me like a specimen.

"A while," I answer gruffly.

"Do you like it? Working security?"

I can't help but snort. "Beats living in a cage."

Her eyes widen at that, curiosity warring with fear. I shouldn't have said anything. She doesn't need my sob story.

I change the subject. "What about you? Do you like traipsing through the woods alone, getting attacked by nature?"

A spark of defensiveness flares in her gaze. "I'm researching lynx populations and habitat recovery in the Baldy Mountain Wilderness. My work is important."

"Right. And dangerous."

"Yeah, well, I'm tougher than I look."

I rake my gaze over her doubtfully. All delicate bird-bones and pale skin. "If you say so, Buttercup."

She narrows her eyes at the nickname but lets it slide. We lapse back into silence, but it feels different. Charged. Or maybe I'm just projecting.

Eventually, Natalie's yawns reveal her exhaustion. I bank the fire and steel myself for what comes next.

"Alright, bedtime for the wounded scientist. I'll take the floor."

"What? No." She shakes her head vehemently and then winces and presses her palm to her temple. "Don't be silly. You saved my life. I'm not letting you sleep on the hard, cold floor."

I arch a brow at her. "You're proposing we share the bed ?" The instant the words leave my mouth I regret them, picturing that scenario all too clearly. She's clothed in soft flannel dotted with little blue flowers, and I sleep in the nude. Images of her lacy pink underwear flood my mind.

Maybe it's the pictures, detailed down to the imaginary color of her nipples, or maybe it's her scent, which is no longer tinged by the metallic tang of blood. Whatever the reason, my cock hardens in my still-damp pants, which doesn't bode well for a platonic night's sleep.

When my gaze flicks toward her, she flushes, her glance darting away .

"I just meant… look, the bed is big enough for both of us. Like you said, we're stuck. Might as well be practical. We're both adults, right?"

I war with myself, knowing I should refuse. Having her that close all night is a risk in more ways than one. But exhaustion is catching up with me. The lure of the mattress is strong.

"Fine," I concede grudgingly. "But stick to your side. I'm not much of a cuddler."

"No worries there, tough guy." Her lips twitch with amusement.

I wait until she's turned away to strip out of my damp clothes and pull on clean underwear and a t-shirt. My body hums with awareness as I slide in. Soon her heat seeps into my skin.

Down boy, I reprimand my baser instincts as I cocoon myself in blankets and scowl at the wall. I'm appalled to realize a part of me wants to reach for her. To offer comfort and warmth. Unacceptable.

I focus on my breathing, trying to ignore her proximity and let sleep claim me. It's going to be a long, frustrating night.

But one thought consoles me as I drift off: Rescue will come in the morning. It has to. I'm not sure how much temptation I can endure before the predator in me snaps its fraying leash…